I Do What I Have to Do
by mhd123
Summary: Jack gets more than he bargains for when helping with an adoption visit.


It's the morning of Lemon's latest adoption home visit. They've been through several of these inspections over the years, where the agent comes by to make sure her home is an appropriate place to raise a child.

And Jack has his well-rehearsed role in these visits, as part of his ongoing commitment to help her with the adoption. She's been cleaning up since last evening, and he shows up half an hour before the agent, to look at her apartment with a critical eye. It's something he's quite good at, of course.

He knocks."Yeah?"

"Lemon, it's me," he shouts.

He waits for a beat, but the door doesn't open.

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"Will you let me in?"

"Do you have your key?"

In fact, he does. Liz gave him a copy years ago, about the time he became her emergency contact. If she ever did choke to death in her apartment, she figured, Jack would be the one to find her. Having a key made that a lot easier. Jack fumbles with the lock for a moment, and he's in. (His place has a fancy keycard system. He hasn't used an old-style lock in years.)

He finds Lemon lying on her back in bed, obviously distraught.

"What's the matter?," Jack asks, exasperated. This is not the time for her to have one of her meltdowns.

"You know that spinning class Jenna got me to sign up for? How I was sore every morning afterwards?"

Jack nods.

"Well, Dr. Spaceman gave me a pill for that, and I think I might be paralyzed."

"Paralyzed?"

"I can't move anything below my neck."

"Was it the yellow one?"

"Yeah."

"I've taken that one before. Paralysis is a side effect that happens sometimes. It'll go away in a few hours."

"Still. I can't move. And Ann is coming in half an hour."

"How long have you been like this?"

"About three hours."

Jack gives Leo a call. He can fix it instantly, but it'll take him a while to get uptown.

Liz is worried. "What if he doesn't get here in time? I'm not changed and I can't move."

Jack gives her a once-over, and she's right. She's a mess. Her hair's alright - for her - but she's in mismatched pajamas. She has to change.

"Good God Lemon, what are we going to do?"

Liz is on the verge of tears. "I don't know."

They look at each other uncomfortably for a moment, both knowing what the answer is.

Liz is firm. "No. _Noooooo_."

Jack internally makes the decision. "Lemon, you're a woman, right?"

"I told you, that Doctor was a quack."

"Then you don't have any parts I haven't seen before."

"You don't know that."

"Well do you have any better ideas?"

Liz frowns. It's very important to her that this visit go well, and 'I've been paralyzed from taking an experimental drug' won't help her chances at all. This calls for desperate measures.

She blinks and exhales. "Alright. But keep your eyes closed."

"Believe me, if I want to see a pair of breasts, I..."

"Zzzzip." Liz's extremely displeased sound lets him know to stop.

Jack decides there isn't enough time to argue this. He strolls over to her closet. "What do you want to wear today?" He starts pawing through the rack. "So did you clean out the whole Goodwill, or just buy out the clothing department?"

Liz ignores him. "How about that red top..." she gestures with her chin, "...and that pair of jeans on the left."

Jack secures the hangers. "You know, if we had more time this would be an excellent moment to give you some fashion pointers. With all the gay friends you have..."

Liz cuts him off. "And the bras are in the drawer over there."

Jack shoots her a horrified look.

"Well you don't want me bouncing all over the place, do you?"

Jack opens the drawer, reaches in, and picks up a bra at random.

-X-X-X-

Jack stands a pillow up to support her, slips his arms under her and picks her up, moving her about a foot up in her bed, so that she can lean against the pillow. It seems to take.

With a nervous sigh, Jack unbuttons Liz's pajama shirt. It's easy enough for him to do, and reveals the slightest hint of cleavage. He sees Lemon turn bright red and avoid his eyes. He sympathizes, as he's quite uncomfortable himself.

And now it's time. He closes his eyes and eases her arms out of the sleeves as if she's a doll. Keeping his eyes closed, he picks up the bra out of his lap and starts fumbling with it. He's much better at taking these off than putting them on.

"Uh, Jack."

"Yes, Lemon?"

"That one opens in the front."

Jack doesn't grasp the significance. "Thanks for the tip."

"How are you going to fasten it? Think about it."

Lemon's right, of course: his eyes closed, hands fumbling around, deep in her cleavage... that would not do. He turns around, opens his eyes, and goes to retrieve another one, holding it up without turning around to get her approval, which she provides.

The thought of her sitting there topless, helpless, sitting ten feet from him... it's unnerving in a way he can't quite describe, the way his protective and libidinous impulses collide. He can't help but picture it in his mind, and it really takes every shred of decency he has for him not to peek.

He's a man, after all. And she's a solid 8.

He returns to work. He's a little careless turning his head back as he closes his eyes, and - really, honestly, it's an accident - he catches a blurry glimpse of her out of the edge of his peripheral vision. It's not a clear image; it's just enough to know that she really is there, his eyes confirming what his brain already imagined.

It haunts him. Jack's not exactly uncomfortable or inexperienced with the female body, but this body... is different somehow. He's feeling familiar boundaries collapse.

He sits back down and grasps for her arm to slide it into the strap, and what his hand finds is not - oh God. It's soft and round and it's definitely _not an arm_.

And he'd been so careful, up to now...

-X-X-X-

Liz hadn't planned on being felt up by her boss today, but she thinks she's remaining rather calm, all things considered. At least Jack had grabbed the good boob. It takes him a long instant to realize what he's holding - it's because Jack didn't realize, right? - a long instant where Liz finds herself speechless. But "hey, watch it" weakly escapes from her lips long after he's withdrawn.

Poor Jack, eyes still screwed shut, looks like he's about to disintegrate. "Sorry, I'm blind here. Talk me in." Jack's hand just hovers, waiting for precise direction before he proceeds. She verbally guides him to her arm, so that he can get the strap over her shoulder.

So far, so good, except for a very slight bump his sightless hand gives her on its way out. She's powerless to correct the slight alteration in her balance, and she topples over, away from the side of the bed Jack is perched on.

Liz is mortified, then starts laughing despite herself. Laughing at the absurdity of her situation; at Jack's dutiful insistence on keeping his eyes shut; at her pathetic attempts at modesty with someone who is, after all, her dearest friend in the world, not some creep on the subway. And lastly, at what the agent would see if she were here right now: Liz, half-naked on a bed with an old, rich guy in a suit, at 10am on a Thursday.

Gentleman sex guests, indeed.

Liz sighs. "Jack, just open your eyes."

And he sees her there, toppled on her side, smiling at him to let him in on the joke, as if to say, "look at how ridiculous this is."

It breaks at least a bit of the tension. Jack, thinking it now OK to smile, shares in the humor of the moment. "So Lemon, can I just leave my eyes open and do you properly?"

"Word choice. Jack." Liz winces. "But yes."

He eases her back into an upright position. He's trying very hard to focus, his eyes remaining intently fixed on hers so as to avoid drifting elsewhere. He's got instincts that kick in with a woman in this situation, and he's suppressing them with all his might.

As he slips the other arm in, the intensity of the moment gets to her: his blue eyes locked on hers, his grip on her bare shoulder, the closeness and the unavoidable intimacy. Her pulse picks up, she breathes deeper, and she has to look down, to disengage. That seems to break the spell for Jack, too, who follows her gaze downward. Oops.

(But really, she thinks, she has to cut him some slack. No straight man on Earth can be that close to bare boobs and not at least glance.)

Jack's voice is low, almost a whisper. His tone doesn't help; if she could muster any wit right now she'd warn him he was being too handsome. "Lemon, uh, I'm going to have to position the cups, uh..."

They're both blushing now, like schoolkids. "Just do it, Jack. But thanks for the warning."

Jack ever so gingerly eases them into position, one by one, taking pains to make the skin-to-skin contact as incidental as possible. Knuckles brush against soft tissue, and Liz's body (involuntarily) reacts. It's been a while since she's been touched there. Jack, thank God, pretends he doesn't notice.

He guides her forward to rest on his shoulder as he reaches around to fasten the clasp, his breath falling on Liz's neck and back.

With her ladybits now put away, it's less awkward (relatively speaking) from there, and the rest goes efficiently in silence. Liz is silently thankful she's already wearing underwear.

Jack carries her out to the sofa just as Dr. Spaceman arrives. Leo gives her a green pill and kicks her in the neck three times. It hurts. In the few minutes before it supposedly will take effect, Jack tidies up the bedroom, and gives everything else a once-over.

Surprisingly, the treatment works like a charm. The two men leave just moments before the agent arrives.

-X-X-X-

That afternoon, Liz comes into work dressed in the most conservative outfit she has. It's really too warm outside to only reveal her head and hands, but there are... other considerations.

"How'd the interview go?"

"Like it always does. I got a definite maybe. So I guess another one bites the dust." She slumps onto his office couch. "But thanks for your help this morning. It meant a lot to me."

Jack acknowledges with a nod, glancing over her body.

"I see you've changed into something rather... Victorian."

"After this morning, you'd probably say that about anything I was wearing. And, by the way, no looking at my body anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"When you look over me like that, I think you're picturing me... the way I was. It's embarrassing."

There's a pause.

"Lemon, as you know I've seen my share of women in my life."

"As you seem to never get tired of telling me."

"And you should know that you have nothing to be ashamed of."

"What do you mean?"

" Well, with your complexes and inhibitions, I was expecting some sort of circus freak show. And you have very nice..."

"OK, stop right there."

"...feet."

Liz wasn't expecting that word. "Oh." She gives him a I-didn't-need-to-know-you-were-into-feet look.

"No, no, it's not a fetish..."

"Also not a word you should ever use with me."

"...It's just that I've never really looked at them before, and with all your talk about strange growths and disorders, I was expecting something... spectacularly bad. They're really quite lovely."

"Well, thanks for the odd compliment, I guess."

He looks at her inquisitively. "Would you prefer I compliment one of your... other parts?"

"Nope, the feet will be just fine."

They smile politely at each each other for a beat.

Liz gets up to leave. "Well, I hope you enjoyed the look. Because you're not going to see them again."

"That's disappointing. I thought we'd been making progress on your foot issues."

"It's not about the feet. After what happened, I may wear a burqa to work tomorrow."

"That'd be a shame. I've gotten use to seeing your face. And anyway, then you'd have to explain to everyone what happened."

After frowning at him, she turns to exit, secretly smiling to herself. He has a point. And in spite of everything, it's nice to get the Jack Donaghy seal of approval. Maybe he would see her feet again.

Someday.

_END._


End file.
